


drunk dialing and designated drivers

by kriszeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Weird First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriszeth/pseuds/kriszeth
Summary: castiel gets roped into being a designated driver





	drunk dialing and designated drivers

"Wake up! Hey! C'mon, wake up. Wake. Up _!_ "

The first thing Castiel is aware of, is his cellphone's speaker digging into his cheek, cradled between his ear and pillow, while someone on the other side keeps talking. 

"Awake yet?"

Castiel grunts in answer as lucidness slowly leaks through the sleepy fog.

_Who dares to call at three in the morning?_

Castiel fell asleep but an hour ago, for God's sake. Still, could be important. It could be Jimmy to tell him Amelia was having their baby right that moment, or maybe Gabriel asking for bailing again; in which case Castiel will let him sleep in jail.

_It'll serve him right_.

"Hello?" He answers gravely, and there's this woman grumbling at him on the phone while his tongue feels like sandpaper.

"I'm drunk." She announces. "Come get me."

"I'm sorry, who is this?" Castiel asks after looking at his cell's screen to make sure he doesn't recognize the number.

 "I'm Meg. Remember me? 'Cause I sure remember you, Clarence." She flirted, lisped words dripping with seduction before turning into a snarl. "So, come get me."

"My name is Castiel." He frowns at the dark. "And I don't know anyone called Meg."

"Oh, c'mon." She huffs. "I'm too drunk for this shit. I can't walk straight and, and, and— I don't know where I am. Also, there are these two guys looking at me funny. I'm almost out of minutes, so stop being an asshole and come get me."

"Look lady, I am sorry but— wait, what?"

"I'm sitting on the parking lot in front of the bar they kicked me out of and these guys keep eyeing me as if I were a whore, BUT I AM NOT A WHORE, YA DUMBASSES, GO FUCK YOURSELVES!" She yells, and then growls at him: "Come get me."

Castiel groans and smothers his face into his pillow, wondering how this is his life. "Just take a cab, will you?"

"Can't. No money. Also no cars passing thru. Come get me."

Liquid swooshes on the other side of the line and Castiel squints into his pillow.

"Are you still drinking?" He asks. The nerve of this, this… Meg woman.

"I stole a bottle before they kicked me out." She hums pleased. "And you reeeally should come get me before these assholes rape me.”

“Ok, ok!" Castiel grunts, tossing off his comforter and tenting the floor for his slip-ons, eyes still squinting at the dark. "Where exactly are you?”

“In the outskirts somewhere in Pontiac? It’s a shack. No, it’s a roadhouse. No, a biker bar…” Meg lets off a peel of laughter.

“Wow. That’s really specific.” Castiel throws on his trench coat over his pajamas.

“That's what fucking GPS is for and—"

The line goes dead. Castiel rolls his eyes and closes his phone with a snap.

"What am I doing?" He sighs.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~

 

Castiel ends up going all over the other side of town, at the roadhouse that reopened a couple months back. It is kind of creepy how dark it looks with only a lone light shining in the empty parking lot, even though some light shines inside the establishment.

"Meg?" He asks, getting off his car. It’s only then that occurs to him that this could be a trap to kidnap and kill him and sell him in parts.

"Me-eg?" his voice breaks in a high pitch. It makes him sound like his twin, and he clears his throat before trying once more, this time making his voice sound like a thunder clap in the sudden silence. "MEG!"

A whine answers him in the distance. What Castiel had thought was just a pile of trash separates from the shadows with a moan.

"Oh, God." All fear for himself is forgotten when he sees a woman sprawled on the ground. He runs towards her, squatting down and checking her over for any signs of violence.

Castiel really, really regrets not having brought a flashlight. Or his bat.

The woman - _Meg_ , he supposes-, turns towards the light as it shines over moon kissed skin, red lips, dark lashes, a face framed by waves of ebony hair. It leaves Castiel breathless for a moment, until the sound of a bottle clinking against the pavement brings him back to earth. Castiel sighs relieved, not seeing bruises or blood or torn clothes, and gently removes the half empty bottle of alcohol from the woman's slack hand.

Castiel shakes the lump in front of him, voice in a whisper now: “Are you Meg?”

“Clarence? Is that you?” Her speech is more slurred, probably because of the nap she just took or the new bottle she just finished.

“No. I told you, my name is Castiel.” He swings her arm over his shoulder and urges her to sit up. “Can you stand?”

"Did I call you?" Meg asks with a confused frown.

“You had too much to drink. Come, let me help you.” Castiel braces her against his own body, finding how petite Meg is when she barely comes up to his shoulder and he has to hunch his back to serve as her crutch. Meg feels quite light even as she lets all her weight fall onto him.

“I got drunk,” Meg whispers in Castiel’s ear after he gives up and picks her bridal style when walking seems too much of a task for her, heading back to his car.

“Yes, you did,” Castiel humors her.

He tries to balance her and open the car door at the same time, which would explain why he never notices the shadow casted over him as he buckles in the inebriated woman into the front seat. Meg turn her head away from him with another moan, falling asleep again.

"Cas? Is that you?" A voice asks.

Castiel bumps his head into the car's roof, and turns around into the smiling green eyes of a man taller than him, with cropped blond hair and full lips biting back an amused grin.

"Dean?" he retorts surprised, hand still on the forming lump in the back of his head. "How—?"

"Dude!" Dean engulfs him in a bear hug that almost makes his feet leave the ground, and then lets him go just as abruptly. "I thought it was you when I saw the pimpmobile."

"I like it." Castiel mumbles defensive, even after all this time. Dean laughs as if it wasn't almost four a. m. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh!" Dean exclaims, as if just remembering. "I was waiting for someone to come pick up this crazy drunk chick before going home," he points behind Castiel to a slumbering Meg. "When we told her it was closing time, she up and left with a bottle of vodka to sit in the parking lot. The guy she came with ditched her after midnight, and she was the last one on the bar, so Sammy and I were going to give her a lift into town because there are no cars around. That's when she began screaming rape and that she wasn't a whore. I wanted to let her be, but you know my pain the ass of a brother. The little bitch wasn’t gonna leave without being sure the girl was taken care of. I lost to rocks."

Castiel nods. Leave it to Dean to lose a game like that, always with the scissors.

"So, you know her?" Dean asks.

Castiel gulps at the leering smirk Dean throws his way. How can he explain he's never met Meg before tonight without looking like a creepy pervert? Not that Dean has the morals to point any fingers at him, but still.

"Uh… yes, I guess you could say that. Her name is Meg." Castiel offers the only thing he actually knows about the woman sleeping in his car.

"Man, she's got a lot of issues." Dean claps his hands together and rubs them as if cold. "Well then, I'll leave her to you. Drive safe, and come back whenever. First beer's on the house."

"Is this yours?" Castiel asks pointing at the roadhouse with his chin, going around his car to open the driver's door with Dean at his heels.

"Yup. Finished remodeling a couple months back, but business is slowly picking up. Still, Pontiac is a small town, you know." Dean shrugs it off as if it's nothing, hands in the pockets of his ancient leather jacket, but his face lights up with pride.

"We also make a mean hamburger." Dean entices with a wide smile, wriggling his eyebrows.

"I'll come by this weekend then." Castiel promises. Dean laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

"Same old, Cas." Dean smirks. "Never change buddy."

"I won't." Castiel gets in the car and turns on the ignition. Dean sends him off with two knocks on the roof of his Lincoln.

“Did we have sex?” Meg rasps suddenly, head lolling to look at Castiel when he begins pulling off the parking lot. Dean gets tinier and tinier on his rearview mirror, hand still waving.

“No!" Castiel is scandalized.

Meg smiles and pats his closest appendage, which is his thigh, making the moment even more awkward. “You’re so sweet. Why are you always so sweet on me, Clarence?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel replies with a huff, exasperated, moving her hand back to her side of the car. "And I still don't know who Clarence is."

There's a pause before Meg says, "I'm gonna be sick."

"What?" Castiel asks alarmed.

"I'm gonna throw up. Stop the car. _Stop the car!_ " Meg sounds frantic, trying to keep down her vomit with both hands over her mouth.

Castiel swerves over the first patch of clear roadside, helping Meg click off her seatbelt when she can't manage. By the time it is off her, she only can double herself over the open door and forcefully expulse her stomach’s content.

Castiel is only glad none of it got inside the Lincoln, though now the smell of processed food and stomach bile permeates his nostrils. After some minutes of painful sounding heaves and retching, Meg proceeds to pull out a small flask from her jacket to drink from, apparently to rinse her mouth, since she just spits out the liquid again.

_Is she an alcoholic?_ Castiel wonders.

"Are you ok?" Castiel asks after Meg closes the door, watching as she eases back into the seat with a groan. Because it was the polite thing to do, not because Castiel actually cared.

"I feel like shit," Meg moans. "I might be dying."

Castiel huffs annoyed as he maneuvers the Lincoln on the road again as he pulls down his window, patience quite over. "You are just traipsing from drunk to hung over."

His bitter tone goes unnoticed as Meg continues, fighting a yawn, "I survive this, I'm gonna order some pizza and we're gonna move some furniture around..."  She closes her eyes, voice fading as she doses off. "You understand?"

"No, I-I –"

Flustered, Castiel turns to look at her, but Meg's sleeping once more.  He sighs and then groans.

How is he supposed to ask her where she lives _now_?

 

~+~+~+~+~+~

 

"Who the fuck are you?" Meg yells, legs kicking, trying to find purchase to sit up on the slippery fabric of the sofa she was sleeping in a second ago.

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever, but, well… at least this time Meg still has her clothes on. Even her boots are still on her feet, which, _Ow_.

"You know, when someone makes you breakfast a simple thank you will do." Blue-Eyes answers, leaving a tray with a plate of tiny sandwiches cut in halves, no crust, a glass of orange juice, two coffees,  and some strawberries on the little table in front of her. "As I've told you multiple times, my name is Castiel."

_Castiel_ backs away from her and the tray with economic precision, taking a seat in the adjacent couch with calm measure, intent on giving her enough leeway and space not to feel crowded or threatened. It makes Meg wonder if the guy has military training or works with easily volatile people and/or animals, or if he's just trying to give her a false sense of security.

"Where the fuck am I?" She asks, still wary but deciding it can't hurt to play along.

Meg stares at what appears to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She doesn't know if she should feel nauseous or hungry or worried a complete stranger knows her hangover remedy breakfast.

"You're a guest at my house. 123rd Madison Street across from Fell Park. Pontiac, Illinois, to be more precise." Castiel answers perfunctorily, reaching for a cup of coffee and a sandwich for himself, as if situations like this happened to him every day. 

For all Meg knows, it could. Which is kind of creepy, but no more than what she has experienced in the past.

"Do you remember what happened this morning?" He asks.

"No." Meg is distrustful, but still reaches for a sandwich after seeing the man bite into one. If the guy, Castiel, gets funny, she can at least barf all over him as distraction, before hightailing it out of the house. "Where's my jacket?"

"In the foyer." He points behind her at what appears the front door, her leather jacket hanging by a nail beside it.

Meg's known him for all of two minutes and his composure already frustrates her, though his bluer than blue eyes, ridiculously pink lips and gruff voice are quite alluring. She crooks an eyebrow at him when he blows into his coffee like a cat afraid of getting scalded, and her smile turns almost into a smirk.

"What?" Castiel asks when he notices.

"So what happened this morning?" She deflects, taking a small bite into the sandwich and almost immediately moans in delight. "This is perfect!"

Castiel smiles into the rim of his cup, clearly proud. "My big brother, Gabriel, has something of a sweet tooth."

Meg moans again in appreciation as she reaches for another piece of Heaven with the perfect balance between peanut butter and jam, still with a fourth of a sandwich in her other hand.

"My regards to your bro," she says through a mouthful.

Castiel stares at her incredulous. It's not the first time someone stares at her like that, though it usually involves fewer clothes.

"What?" Meg asks, cheeks full in a perfect chipmunk replica, one PB&J sandwich in each hand.

He laughs at her, eyes crinkling in delight, but it soon turns into a cough when she glares at him.

"Answering your question," Castiel clears his throat, but the amusement doesn't completely disappear. "You drunk-dialed me, called me Clarence and blackmailed me into picking you up under the threat of being raped."

"Wow." Meg swallows. "So a stranger calls you at the crack of dawn screaming rape and instead of calling the police you go get her."

Castiel squints at her as if deciding if that is an insult or not.  "I didn't exactly know where you were. It took me twenty minutes to find you by GPS."

"You must be shit at tech if it took you that long." Meg finishes the last of the sandwich in her hand, gulping at the icy glare he throws her and clearing her throat. "Sorry."

"What's your number?" She asks and nods as Castiel recites it back at her. "That used to be Clarence's number."

"Oh."Castiel nods. "Well, that makes sense. I just got this number a couple weeks ago."

Meg hums distracted, reaching for a strawberry this time. "Clarence, uh? Haven't thought 'bout him in years. Must be all the coming back feelings Pontiac brings."

"You lived here before." He asserts, fixedly staring at her chin.

Did his mother never told him it was creepy to stare at people? Was there something on her face? There was, wasn't it?

"For a while, when I was a growing up. I'm just here for moral support now though." Meg answers, distractedly cleaning herself with the torso of a hand. "I mean, after all, we go way back. Clarence and me, I mean. Just met you of course."

She chuckles as Castiel smiles awkwardly at her, falling silent. Meg chooses the orange juice to drink instead of the coffee, and both take a sip of their respective beverages.

"This silence is very uncomfortable." Castiel clears his throat and asks, "Is there something I should know?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking me that?" she smirks by default, relishing in his discomfort.

"Sorry, I guess I just have that effect. Awkward. You know?"

"That must be difficult for you." Meg's lips curl into a flirty smile that, for some reason, makes Castiel hide behind the rim of his cup.

She scoffs and shakes her head a little in response, looking down into her own glass. Castiel is right, this feels pretty awkward already and it's kind of dragging on.

_Better to cut it short_ , Meg decides, gulping down the rest of her juice. "Thanks for breakfast, but I'd better beat it. Can I use your restroom first though?"

"Oh. Um, yes. Follow the corridor behind me, first door on the left." He instructs.

Both get up, leaving the cup and glass on the tray at the same time, hands touching briefly. It gives Meg chills, but she masks the awkwardness reaching for the last sandwich on the plate.

"For the road." She winks, making the man flush.

Meg shouldn't find a grown man cute, but his self proclaimed awkwardness is kind of endearing. She turns, sandwich dangling from her mouth to hide the smile he so easily brings to her lips.

When she returns from freshening up, the tray is nowhere to be seen and Castiel's already at the door dressed in a trench coat and making the usual inventory of keys, wallet, _what else do I forget?_

Meg lets herself stare for minute, mind blissfully blank, heart warmed. It kind of freaks her out a little.

"Ya gonna follow me, hotshot?" she asks once reaching him and scoffs again when Castiel jumps a little as she puts on her leather jacket.

"No. Today's Thursday, I do grocery shopping in the mornings to avoid lines." He answers, opening the door for her to pass, all gentleman like.

_Does he understand sarcasm at all?_ Meg wonders as she steps out, inspecting her surroundings as he locks the door behind. Castiel was being honest about his address; Meg could see Fell Park across the street.

_Must be a sight on Fall_ , she thinks.

 It only makes her more curious about the man. Big house, modest lawn, friendly neighborhood. Appropriate for having a family, raising kids… but his bathroom looked kind of empty, no feminine touch, no girlfriend (or boyfriend) photos displayed on the living room or walls, only a couple of family portraits through the years.

Then, there was the pimpmobile parked on the front.

"That your car?" she asks and watches a blush go down the collar of his shirt that is just begging her to find exactly where it ends.

"I like it." He answers, almost pouting.

_Really_ , _he should cut it with the cuteness_. Meg shakes herself and clears her throat again. _Maybe awkwardness was contagious._

"Well, um, thanks again for, you know, breakfast. And, um… everything else."

"It was an experience, I guess." Castiel answers modestly.

"You're an angel." Meg blurts suddenly and berates herself in her head. Castiel only squints at her and tilts his head like an overgrown bird.

"I'm sorry? Is that a flirtation?"

"No, it's a species. A very powerful one." A beat of silence. "I was making a joke, Cas."

"Oh." He chuckles awkwardly. "So, um, what happened to Clarence, anyway?"

Meg shrugs. "Last I heard of him, he played God, went poof."

Castiel looks at her, considering, head tilted to the side, all adorably confused. He looks like one of those stupid extinct birdbrains. Dodos? Only the cartoon colorful version from the 'Up!' movie, not the actual boring real ones.

"But I think we're gonna be good friends. You and me." Her smirk finally turns into a smile, features softening. Meg decides this is a good time as any to walk away before she embarrasses herself further and turns before Castiel thinks to offer her a lift. No goodbyes.

Meg isn't any good at them anyway.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~

 

"I'd like that." Castiel says to himself watching her go, before he enters his car to go to the county market.

For some reason, Castiel feels like he should stock up on peanut butter.


End file.
